


Usual Order

by Kasiarzyna



Series: tma owns my bi ass [1]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Blood Kink, Elias is a dick, F/M, Female Reader, If You Squint - Freeform, Implied Sexual Content, Manipulation, No Proof Reading we die like Men, Romance, Strong Female Characters, Unhealthy Relationships, Workplace Relationship, i mean... kind of romance, im not an eliasfucker i swear stop looking at me, sorry guys i work with coochies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:49:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24130852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kasiarzyna/pseuds/Kasiarzyna
Summary: Okay, I was bullied into writing this (which just proves that bullying works... apparently). I don't even know how to summarize this...After finding out the horrible truth about your work at the Institute, you take a trip down the memory lane.English is not my native language, I just... I need to get this out of my system
Relationships: Elias Bouchard & Reader, Elias Bouchard/Reader
Series: tma owns my bi ass [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1741156
Comments: 13
Kudos: 58





	Usual Order

You are standing in His office, heart drumming away in your chest, blood rushing through your ears and cutting off any conversation happening around you. From Tim scoffing, barely registering the terrible, horrible truth of your current predicament, to Melanie, practically foaming at her mouth. 

And yet, in that moment of chaos, all you can focus on are His hands, folded neatly on the mahogany desk. 

Fingers, long and bony, adorned with silver rings are sitting there, entangled with each other and the mere sight makes you want to scream. Because, now that you know about His powers, about the Institute, you can remember every single one of their movements throughout your career in the Archives. And every movement marks your mistakes, from the moment you walked through the door, job application in hand.

You don't regret working in the Archives, working for Him. It was fun, peaceful, despite the specific nuances of the job. You never really cared for the danger of chasing after supernatural... Happenings. Live's been quite boring before and the rush of adrenaline was addictive. What you regret however, was that one specific evening.

It rained like hell.

You were watching the downpour through the window with growing anxiety, finger fiddling with a pen as you remembered, that on this beautiful day, you had conveniently forgotten your umbrella. Which meant, that you would have to make your way to the Underground with nothing to shield you from the rain whatsoever. 

As the rest of your colleagues started to leave the building (the Sasha you couldn't remember, no matter how hard you tried), every single one of them going in the exact opposite of where you lived, all your hopes began to dwindle. You were going to get absolutely soaked, probably sick. Maybe you would perish from a cold, like a Victorian lady. 

That would be a fitting end, you thought. Instead of getting murdered by some haunted coffee mug, you would just... Sneeze yourself to death. 

Just as you started to imagine yourself in a hospital bed, with a dramatic white gown and gaunt features, you heard Him leave His office. 

In hindsight, you suppose He knew exactly when to appear, what to say, what to do. The notion makes your guts twist.

He offered to drive you home, a friendly smile placed upon His sharp features, so inviting and weirdly warm. You should've known it was out of place, you should have known where it was leading to. 

You remember how different He looked, abandoning His office persona, seemingly just for you. The knowing softness in His eyes, as he looked out at the pouring rain. You wonder if this whole thing was planned? Was it all a calculated rouse? More than likely, you weren't stupid enough to believe in happy accidents, not anymore at least. 

The rings on His fingers catch the light from a desk lamp and you shiver on the spot. There is a ghost of a cold metal touch on your knee, where he placed His hand, squeezing lightly, to let you know why exactly he decided to help you. 

You were watching people running on the sidewalk, magazines over their heads, as they tried to find shelter from the pouring rain. His thumb pressed circles into the flesh of your leg and you remember smiling. You felt special back then, the one who caught the eye of the kind of handsome boss. The attention was nice, you had to admit. 

Already, you could imagine the gossip. Tim, wiggling his eyebrows at you as you explained how you got home. Sasha would ask for all the details, mischievous smile on her lips (you... think they were hers... were they?). Jon would absolutely judge you, maybe even be a little outraged, but, there was also the possibility, that he wouldn't even find out. At least Martin would be understanding... You thought. 

And even then, knowing that what you were doing shouldn't be really happening, you let Him hold your knee, squeezing it almost too possessively to feel comforted. Which you didn't notice... Not entirely.

He didn't kiss you until you were both inside your apartment. After a short moment of fumbling around with your keys, you let Him in. And He was politely waiting for you to close the door, before latching onto your lips with no warning. 

You couldn't believe this was actually happening. It wasn't like you've ever considered Him to be anything more than your lowkey asshole-ish boss. You knew He was handsome, sure, you had eyes, but you were never going to act upon your little attraction, Until you did act upon it, and wondered why the hell it took you so long to do so. 

As your hands slid up to His head, finally destroying His perfectly slicked back hair, you knew you were in trouble.

His kisses were terrifying. The amount of hunger behind them almost startled you, as his teeth found your bottom lip and bit down. Hard.

A familiar taste of iron filled your mouth, but not for long. It soon got swallowed by Him along with any doubts you might've had. 

Soon, you've found yourself on your bed, all but thrown onto the covers, smile bloody, as you watched Him undress. He was beautiful then, illuminated by the soft light from the window in your bedroom, darkness shaping his features to be even sharper. You should've known He was dangerous from the way He looked at you, if the blood running down your chin wasn't telling enough.

But even then you just couldn't stop watching His fingers, working on the buttons of His shirt, exposing His surprisingly well-shaped body, For a man His age, whatever that may be, He looked good. Great even.

And now, He looks beautiful as well, warm lights of the office making His skin look softer, like maybe, just maybe there is some gentleness in Him. Like He didn't just take your freedom and crushed it in His teeth,

Before the memory of His fingers untangling you from the binds of your dress, you catch yourself. Stifling a gasp, you push back the memories, as far as they can go, forcing your back to stay straight. Keeping your head high, despite your shaking hands, despite the blood pumping through your veins and the tears stinging your eyes. 

He dismisses all of you, voice seemingly unaffected by the hostile glances and murmurs. Or maybe, He really doesn't care. After all, He knows everything, sees everything. Why would He bother to acknowledge half-baked threats?

You sway in your spot, before you force your legs to move, to turn around and take you as far away from here, as it's possible (which isn't that far, since you still have an hour until the end of your shift).

\- (Y/N).

Oh. Oh no. Oh no, no, no.

He catches you mid step, your name falling from His lips without any traces of guilt or remorse. You sigh, freezing in place and mentally preparing yourself to face him.

The moment you see His eyes, you know your troubles are far from over. They almost seem to glow an impossible green, as they pin you in place, focusing on your face, which you desperately try to keep blank.

\- I am not sorry - He says and you nod.

You knew that already, from the moment He started explaining everything with that monotone voice, like you all just took part in a short briefing. And in some way, this was a short briefing. It's just the contents of it were life-altering, to say the least.

\- I suppose recent events might put a strain on our relationship - He starts, and that statement alone almost wrenches a bitter laugh out of you.

\- That is why I want you to take your time and peacefully think it over. And when you do, we can meet for a dinner, your place would be ideal.

For a moment you just stand there, silently, His words not entirely reaching you. When they finally register in your brain, you just can't help it. 

You laugh.

It's not pleasant to the ears and inside you can feel yourself cringing at how pathetically broken you sound.

\- You think this is how it's going to be? - you ask, hands coming up to tug at your hair, in case this whole thins is just a very bad dream.

\- "Oh, you can never leave the Archives or you'll die a horrible death, and I can, and will watch your every move with my creepy Seeing powers, but we can still shag after dinner"?

\- You are very much aware that this isn't only about "shagging" - He grimaces a bit, like the word is foreign to Him and you almost laugh again, almost.

\- I realize this is a difficult situation to adapt to, but I'm confident that after you do, things will get back to their usual order.

In a flash you understand what Melanie felt just minutes ago. A wave of white rage hits you unexpectedly. In two long strides you stand right in front of His desk, the fronts of your thighs digging into the edge.

\- There will never be any "usual order", you twat - you seethe through your teeth, and He just... Watches, not even a flicker of emotion on His face.

\- You trapped me here, You took my choice away from me. And then, you used me, again and again.

\- I did not... - He sighs but stops when your open hand collides with His desk, loud bang resounding throughout the office.

\- Shut. Up.

He does. A grimace twisting his features as He watches you, always watches. You can see familiar expression on his face. The special one, when He knows He has to wait for you to agree with Him, but is just so impatient. Usually it was reserved for small arguments, over the taste of your lunch. Where He would try to convince you, that your favourite brand of packed sandwiches is worth jackshit, while you would cling to your poor taste, denying Him mostly out of spite.

But this time, it isn't a turkey sandwich. It was your freedom, something you held dear, treasured the most in life. He knew how much having a choice, having your freedom recognized meant to you. And yet, He still looks at you like you were just a child throwing a tantrum. Like He knows you'll come around.

And maybe you will, but goddammit, you are not giving up without a fight.

\- I hope... - you sigh, blinking the sudden wave of tears away - I hope, when someone decides to kill you...

\- It's you, I know, I've heard that one before.

\- I hope it's Daisy.

His eyes lock onto yours, a shiver running up your spine at the sheer intensity of His gaze. You hold your ground to the best of your capacity, teeth gritting against each other, as another wave of tearfull anger shakes through you.

\- I would be too gentle - you finally force out of yourself - And you don't deserve that.

Saying those words makes you feel powerful for a treacherous second, as you straighten you back and put your chin high in a pathetic attempt at defiance. 

And then He smiles.

The corners of His mouth lazily drag upwards, where they settle into an unsettling grin, eyebrows resting low over his glowing eyes. Danger seems to flow out of him like a stream, engulfing you in it's depth. 

He opens His mouth to speak, but you don't bother to listen, turning on your heel and practically sprinting out of His office, doors slamming behind you. 

Your heart doesn't stop hammering away in your chest for the rest of the day, as you flee the Archives, hiding away in your apartment, where the covers on your bed look at you knowingly. The reality of the situation hitting you. 

You were His. From the moment you signed the contract, the moment you let Him drive you home. You were His. And he knows it. He Knows everything.

If there is a God, you hope He doesn't judge you too harshly...

**Author's Note:**

> there's not going to be an usual order you stupid slut
> 
> okay, listen, pls dont judge me im just a little creachur thatse it i cant change that. again english is not my primary language, hope you had a blast reading this, there will possibly be more, who knows... stay frosty!
> 
> Edit: okay so guys, if you want me to write some tma reader inserts drop in ideas or characters in the comments, or you can message me @nerdonpluto on Tumblr and Instagram, im bored and ready to sin


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